


Dizzy

by feverfooted



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Fluff, M/M, SnowBaz, drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverfooted/pseuds/feverfooted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baz decides to get drunk. It doesn't go the way he thinks it will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dizzy

It was never my intention to get drunk with Simon.   
But, as I should have figured out by now, things never seemed to go the way I intended. 

___

Aunt Fiona had sent me a bottle of vodka in the mail. I don’t know how she did it. Or why. But the fact of the matter was that I had it stored under my bed, and I wanted to drink it. Summer was quickly approaching, and as the temperatures continued to rise Simon had taken to sleeping with his shirt off. 

God knows what that did to me.   
Nowadays, it was all I could do to keep it together. 

Late one afternoon, when the sun was just starting to settle behind the treetops of the Wavering Wood, I took out the bottle and headed out to the grounds. I figured I’d be left alone near the edge of the forest, where the shadows would easily obscure me. 

I walked fast, the bottle tucked beneath my shirt. I wasn’t sure what the penalty for this would be, and I didn’t want to find out. 

I wanted to forget, for at least a little while. 

So consumed in my own thoughts, my own priorities, I didn’t notice Snow barreling towards me until it was too late. 

“What the fuck?” I snapped as his chest rammed into mine. The bottle slipped from beneath my shirt and I just barely managed to catch it before it smashed to pieces on the stone floor. 

Simon took a step back, and I could already feel the magic pulsing beneath his skin. God, I didn’t need this right now. If he went off—

“I was just heading up to our dorm,” he snapped, crossing his arms, jaw clenched in defiance. 

I knew I had to be careful. He was already on edge—I didn’t want to be the one that sent him over. 

(Did I?)

We stood still for a moment, staring at each other, waiting. A sudden fleeting image of his bare skin raced behind my eyes, jolting me back into reality. I looked away, hoping my cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. 

“Where are you going, Pitch?” said Simon. He glanced at the bottle in my hands, now totally visible, and his eyes widened slightly. 

I met his eyes again, forcing razors into my gaze. 

“I’m going to get drunk,” I said with finality, pushing past him and heading onward. 

I thought he had left me alone—surely, the boy couldn't be that dense—but again, I was wrong. 

“Wait.” His fingers were on my shoulder. I could feel the heat of him through the cloth of my shirt. 

I turned slowly. He was standing much closer than before. 

“I want to come with you.”

I let out a harsh laugh. 

“No, you don’t,” I said. 

He took another step closer, determination blazing in his irises. 

“I’m coming with you. You can’t drink all of that on your own anyway.”

A million thoughts scattered through my mind at once. I wanted to push him away, send him off. I had to. Who knew what would happen?

But I couldn’t seem to get the words out. 

“Fine,” I sighed. 

And as we turned to walk towards the forest, I tried not to think about his bare skin. 

(It was impossible). 

____

He made the most ridiculous face. 

“God, that’s awful,” he gasped. He clutched at his chest. “It burns.”

“What, you’ve never had vodka before?” I said with a smirk. I could feel the alcohol starting to work, letting me relax. 

“No,” he said, surprising me. 

We both sat on the hard-packed dirt of the Wavering Wood, leaning against a tree trunk. The bark dug into my skin, but I didn’t really care. I didn’t care about much, at the moment. 

The sun had completely disappeared, and all that was left was a smear of burnt orange visible through the leaves overhead. 

I took another drink. Personally, I liked the way it burned. I liked the way it traced a path from my throat to my stomach, lighting me on fire from within. 

We were quiet for a long time, Simon and I. He was sitting so close, and for once I didn’t try to push him away. I thought about the way his back looked when he wasn’t wearing a shirt, the way it was peppered in freckles and moles. I thought about how silly it was that I was thinking about his moles. 

Before I knew it, I was giggling. 

“What?” asked Simon, the word sounding like it weighed a hundred pounds. 

“It’s just funny,” I said, trying to hold back the laughter. No such luck. I laughed, loud and clear, and before I knew it Simon was laughing too. 

He leaned against me, shoulder rubbing against mine as he laughed. 

It took several minutes for us to calm down. 

When he stopped laughing, he didn’t move away. He stayed where he was, leaning against me, like I was the only thing holding him up 

(Really, it was the other way around).

“Tell me why we’re laughing so I don’t look like an idiot,” he said, poking me in the ribs. 

“Too late,” I said, poking him back. He grabbed my hand before I could pull it away. 

We sat there, shoulders touching, his fingers around mine. 

I felt dizzy. 

“No…Baz,” he began, shaking his head. “Tell me.” His eyelids were heavy. 

I felt the words in my mouth before I said them. I felt them, and I tried to hold them back. But I couldn’t. What was the point? I was tired of fighting. 

“I like you,” I said. Easily. Confidently. Like I did this all the time. Like those words hadn’t been tearing me apart for six years. 

I waited for Simon to push me away. To let go of my hand.

Instead, he nodded. 

“Figured as much,” he said, a sideways grin twisting his lips. 

He kissed me. 

It was the alcohol, I thought as his lips parted mine. There was no way this was real. But here we were, his hand holding mine, his body leaden and pressed against me. And I was dizzy. And overjoyed. And miserable. 

All at once. 

I knew I should stop. But his hands were in my hair now, and his breaths were my breaths, and my eyes were sealed shut…

Simon…

As the world spun around me I held onto him for dear life, clinging to him like he was all I had left. 

(In a way, he was).


End file.
